bethen avilla ; the circle mage (bethe) wrote in thedas,
"A favor?" Bethen quirked a brow at the suggestion of their reward awaiting at the end of this competition, then shrugged. "Fine. I'll see you to that." It sounded harmless enough -- and perhaps she should have been wiser than to think so after all that had happened between them, but she didn't. The gravity of their connection hadn't set in again, neither had thoughts of their true age. The innocent spirit of a child had been revived by the mere suggestion of a race, and retained even after a glimmer of mischief seemed to spark in his eyes and curve at the corner of his mouth. She wasn't a particularly competitive person by nature, but she had begun to focus on the idea of winning and nearly forgotten any discomfort or worry that had clouded her thoughts earlier. They were joking and laughing like they had when they were young, when there was nothing standing between simply having a good time in each others' company.
Beth grabbed up the folds of her skirt, bunching them in her hands so that they wouldn't drag around her feet and trip her up. She looked silly, but she'd never been much for grace or agility even in her regular attire. Physical skills were her least developed. Best not to let her tiny advantage slip away because of her wardrobe. The mage prepared herself to sprint, stepping forward to an invisible starting line that matched up with a row of stone bricks. "Well, I've no idea how any animal feels, but I do think I can beat you quite easily. See you in the kitchens, slowpoke." She stuck her tongue out at him teasingly, then bolted forward down the corridor, feeling so strangely free and unburdened.
With any luck, her legs wouldn't fail her, though she wasn't completely confident that he wouldn't be in close pursuit within seconds if he wasn't planning on simply letting her win. He made a living off of chasing down mages, after all.